Chapter 121: The Exchange Rate on the Day of the Fall, The New Minister's Empty Check
Morrin lowered his voice, his gaze sweeping over Harrybeside him intentionally or unintentionally: "The interior space has four rooms and a living room, comes with a constant temperature system, infinite water circulation, and an invisibility barrier. If... I mean if, you suddenly need to go 'camping' in the wild, this thing can save your lives."
Harry froze.
He understood Morrin's implication.
Morrin knew they were going on the run? He had even prepared equipment for them?
"Thank you, Morrin." Arthur Weasley said gratefully.
Morrin waved his hand and found a corner to sit down.
He did not blend into the joyful crowd, but instead, like an observer, held a glass of champagne in his hand while his eyes kept fixed on the sky.
He was waiting.
Night fell.
The wedding reached its climax.
Suddenly, a silver light cut through the night sky.
A huge silver lynx landed in the center of the dance floor; it was Kingsley's Patronus.
It opened its mouth and emitted Kingsley's deep and anxious voice: "The Ministry of Magic has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."
The whole venue instantly fell into dead silence.
Immediately after, screams erupted everywhere.
Countless Black dots appeared in the sky, and the Death Eaters descended like a dark cloud.
"Run! Run quickly!" Lupin shouted.
Harry pulled Hermione and Ron, preparing to use Apparition.
He looked back at Morrin.
Morrin was still sitting there, holding his wine glass, unmoving.
Around him, the Werewolf Guard that had been lying in ambush suddenly sprang into action; they did not attack the Death Eaters but quickly formed a human wall to protect the panicked guests.
"Don't panic."
Morrin's voice resonated through the entire venue via [magic Amplification]: "This is private property. Any uninvited guests will be considered illegal trespassers."
Morrin stood up and tapped his cane heavily on the ground.
[Alchemy Array · Activate].
A huge golden light shield rose instantly, covering the entire wedding venue and blocking all the green light beams shot at them from the outside.
"Go, Harry."
Morrin, across the chaotic crowd, mouthed to Harry: "The game has begun."
Harry gritted his teeth and gripped Hermione's hand tightly.
"Let's go!"
Crack!
The trio disappeared via Apparition.
Watching Harry leave, Morrin put down his wine glass.
He looked at the Death Eaters bombarding the light shield, but did not counterattack; instead, he said to Alfred beside him: "Write this down."
"Every chair and every patch of grass damaged today must be charged to the Ministry of Magic's account."
"Tell their new Minister, Pius Thicknesse..."
A cold glint flashed in Morrin's eyes: "...If they don't pay compensation, I will cut off the maintenance funds for the Ministry of Magic's Floo Network. Let him ride a broomstick to work himself."
The day after the Ministry of Magic fell.
Underground in London, the Ministry of Magicheadquarters.
The huge "magic is Might" statue had already been erected, pressing down upon the figures of countless Muggles. The air was filled with an atmosphere of terror and slaughter.
In the Minister's office, Pius Thicknesse sat in the chair that originally belonged to Scrimgeour.
His eyes were dull, controlled by the Imperio, like a marionette.
Opposite him, Yaxley and several other Death Eaters were slapping the table in exasperation.
"No money?! How is that possible!" Yaxley roared, "We have taken over the entire Ministry of Magic! The vaults should be piled high with Galleons!"
"There is indeed money in the vaults, Yaxley."
Lucius Malfoy stood by the window, his face pale, holding an urgent letter just delivered from Gringotts.
His voice carried a deep sense of powerlessness.
"But that money... we can't touch it."
"What do you mean?" Yaxley glared at him, "Do you mean to say those Goblins dare to defy the Dark Lord's orders?"
"The Goblins cited Article 73 of the 'Gringotts Wartime Special Provisions'."
Lucius waved the letter in his hand as if reading a death sentence: " 'In view of the legal disputes regarding the change of power in the Ministry of Magic, to ensure the safety of depositors' assets, Gringotts is freezing all official Ministry of Magic accounts effective immediately. Any large withdrawals require signed guarantees.' "
"Who is the largest creditor?"
"Morrin White." Lucius sighed.
"That little brat!" Yaxley roared, "Then go catch him! Or just rob the bank!"
"Rob the bank?" Lucius looked at him as if he were an idiot, "Do you know who designed Gringotts' current security system? It's White Security Company. There are not only dragons there now, but also alchemical machine guns."
"And..."
Lucius pointed to the magic exchange rate display on the wall.
The numbers on it were jumping crazily.
[Official Ministry of Magic Galleon Exchange Rate: Plunged 60%]
[White Alchemy Vouchers: Rose 150%]
"Morrin issued a notice this morning: All stores under the White brand will refuse to accept the old Galleons issued by the Ministry of Magic effective immediately, and will only accept physical gold or 'White Vouchers'."
"In other words..." Lucius spread his hands in despair, "If you want to buy a bottle of Potion to heal the Dark Lord, the Galleons in your hand can't even buy a bottle cap."
The office fell into dead silence.
This group of arrogant Dark Wizards suddenly realized that although they held the power of life and death, they were still paupers held in the palm of that young man's hand.
"Go talk to him."
A cold, raspy voice sounded from the shadows of the room.
Lord Voldemort, not appearing in person, issued the order through magic communication.
"I want my army to have equipment. Lucius, this is your task. At all costs... make him 'cooperate'."
Lucius shuddered and bowed his head to accept the order: "Yes, Master."
But he was smiling bitterly in his heart: Cooperate? That would mean using the Malfoy family's savings to fill the hole!
Late that same night, Number 12, Grimmauld Place.
Three disheveled figures appeared out of thin air on the steps of the old Black family house.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
After fleeing the wedding, they encountered Death Eaters on Tottenham Court Road, and finally had to flee here.
"Be careful." Harry raised his wand and pushed open the scratch-covered Black door, "This place might be full of traps set by Professor Moody."
"If Snape can get in too, then this place is not safe." Hermione said worriedly.
They walked into the foyer.
The dust, cobwebs, and the roaring portrait of Sirius's mother that they had expected did not appear.
Instead, they were greeted by soft lighting, sparkling clean floors, and a faint lavender scent in the air.
"Did I go to the wrong door?" Ron rubbed his eyes, "Is this still that haunted house?"
"This looks like... it has been renovated." Hermione looked at the wallpaper in surprise; there were no longer peeling stains on it, but brand new silver-green patterns.
Harry walked cautiously to the kitchen door.
He remembered this was where the Order of the Phoenix held meetings.
Chapter 122: The Fridge at Grimmauld Place, the Auction at the Courtroom.
The door pushed open.
The kitchen was brand new. A snow-white tablecloth covered the long table, and a warm fire burned in the fireplace.
In the center of the table lay a conspicuous piece of parchment, weighted down by a Galleon.
Harry walked over and picked up the parchment.
"To: The Trio of Fugitives"
"Since you have chosen this place as a safe house, please abide by the move-in rules of 'White Property Management Company'."
"1. The fridge contains enough food for you for a month: White Manor specialty steak, fresh vegetables, butterbeer. Don't be polite, put it on Mr. Black's tab."
"2. The Dark Arts items upstairs have been cleared, but I advise you not to touch the cabinet with the 'Personal Items' sign."
"3. If you encounter an emergency, such as Death Eaters breaking in, please press the red button on the wall. That will trigger the'surprise' I left behind."
"Happy fleeing."
"Your creditor, M.W."
"It's Morrin." Harry put down the letter, his feelings extremely complicated.
"My God! Look at this fridge!" Ron opened the huge magicfridge and exclaimed, "It's all meat! And ice cream! This is even better than the food at Hogwarts!"
"What does he think this place is?" Hermione was a bit angry, but more relieved, "A vacation villa?"
"Kreacher!" Harry tentatively shouted.
Pop.
The House-elf Kreacher appeared.
But he wasn't filthy and cursing like before. He was wearing a clean tea towel printed with the words "White Housekeeping," and his back was straight.
"Master Harry." Kreacher bowed. Although his expression was still somewhat arrogant, his tone was much more respectful, "Mr. White has instructed that if you come, Kreacher must provide five-star service."
"Morrin... what did he do to you?" Harry asked.
"Mr. White gave Kreacher honor." A light flickered in Kreacher's large eyes, "He repaired Master Regulus's portrait and also promised... if Kreacher behaves well, he will help Kreacher get back Master Regulus's locket."
Harry was stunned.
The locket!
He suddenly remembered that the real locket had already been taken by Morrin.
"Morrin had everything planned." Harry sat in a chair, looking at the table full of delicacies, suddenly feeling the wand in his hand heavy.
"We are running for our lives, struggling desperately." Harry smiled bitterly, "And he... he is arranging our room and board, and even buying people's hearts."
"At least we don't have to go hungry." Ron had already started frying steak, "Harry, eat something. Since he is the creditor, eating him into poverty is a form of revenge!"
Harry looked at the sizzling steak, and his stomach rumbled uncontrollably.
"Alright."
Harry picked up the knife and fork and cut off a piece of meat fiercely.
"Only when we are full will we have the strength to find those Horcruxes... although I feel that Morrin might already know where they are."
...
Meanwhile, Hogwarts.
In front of the window of the Principal's office.
Severus Snape stood alone, wearing his Black Principal's robes.
He watched the night outside, the school surrounded by Dementors.
The fire in the fireplace flashed.
A piece of parchment flew out and landed on his desk.
Snape opened the letter.
It was Morrin's handwriting:
"Respected Principal:"
"Regarding the 'Defense Against the Dark Arts' textbook for the new semester, I have already prepared a batch of'special teaching aids' for you. In addition, for the potential corporal punishment by The Caro Siblings, my medical team is already on standby."
"Please ensure the student survival rate. This is the bottom line of our cooperation."
"Attachment: An old photo of Lily Potter (restored version)."
Snape's fingers trembled slightly.
He picked up the photo and watched the girl with red hair and green eyes smiling at him. The photo was restored to perfection, just like it was taken yesterday.
"Morrin White..."
Snape carefully tucked the photo into his inner pocket, his voice hoarse:
"You... damn devil."
He turned around, his Black robes billowing, and walked toward the Principal's throne.
Since he had made the deal, he had to play the part to the end.
The Dark Age had arrived.
But in this darkness, there was a golden net, silently spreading out, catching everyone who was about to fall.
September 2nd, the underground level of the Ministry of Magic.
The air here was even colder than the streets outside.
Dementors glided through the corridor, the chill they brought seeping into the bone marrow.
Harry Potter was currently disguised as the burly Ministry official Albert Runcorn. He wore heavy robes, cold sweat on his forehead, following closely behind the Death Eaternamed Yaxley.
"Go to the courtroom, Runcorn." Yaxley ordered roughly, "That mudblood Cattermole's wife is on trial. You should go listen too."
Harry had to nod and follow Yaxley into the elevator.
The elevator doors opened, ninth level.
This was no longer the mysterious corridor it once was, but an entrance filled with an atmosphere of despair.
"This place is disgusting."
A familiar voice rang out at the elevator entrance, carrying undisguised disdain.
Harry looked up sharply.
He saw Morrin White standing there, followed by four heavily armed Werewolf bodyguards.
He wasn't wearing a Ministry uniform, but a sharply tailored dark gray pinstripe suit, with a gold "Highest Level Pass" pinned to his chest.
When Yaxley saw Morrin, his original arrogant momentum instantly deflated by half.
"Mr. White." Yaxley squeezed out an ugly smile, "Why are you here?"
"To see where my money went."
Morrin tapped the newly hung "magic is Might" sign on the wall with his cane:
"This kind of decoration with no aesthetic value actually reimbursed five thousand Galleons of mine? Yaxley, I think the audit department needs to have a talk with you."
Yaxley's face turned pale: "This... this was the Dark Lordpersonally..."
"Lead the way." Morrin interrupted him, "I heard Ms. Umbridge is holding court below? Just in time, I'm short of hands."
...
Courtroom Ten.
This used to be the place where Harry was tried.
Now, it had become the entrance to hell.
Dementors hovered high above.
Below, Mary Cattermole was sitting in that chair with chains, shivering.
On the judge's bench, Dolores Umbridge sat in the highest seat.
She was still wearing that nauseating pink suit, and although there was no locket around her neck, she was wearing a heavy gold chain.
Beside her sat Pius Thicknesse.
"... Who did you steal the wand from?" Umbridge asked in a syrupy and vicious voice, "Not from a Wizard, then who?"
Chapter 123: The Pink Nightmare Returns and the "Requisitioned" Prisoners
"I didn't steal it! I bought it from Ollivander!" Mrs. Cattermole cried out.
"Liar." Umbridge wore an expression of enjoyment; it was her favorite part. "Dementor, give her a..."
"Stop."
The heavy oak doors were pushed open.
Morrin White strode in, his leather shoes clicking crisply against the marble floor.
"White?" Umbridge's eyelids twitched violently when she saw Morrin.
It was the psychological trauma left behind from being blown up by fireworks and berated by newspapers in the past.
But now, with the Dark Lord backing her, she felt like she could handle it again.
"The trial is underway, Mr. White," Umbridge said in a shrill voice. "This is a sacred moment for purging the bloodlines of the Wizarding world, and unauthorized personnel..."
"I am not unauthorized personnel. I am the biggest taxpayer."
Morrin walked straight to the side of the witness stand. The four Werewolf Guards immediately dispersed, subtly forming a perimeter around the Dementor.
"Deputy Minister Umbridge," Morrin said, pulling a document from his coat and tossing it onto the trial table. "My factory has seen a surge in orders recently, and there is a severe shortage of labor."
"Since the Ministry of Magic intends to deal with these 'mudbloods'..." Morrin pointed at Mrs. Cattermole on the chair, then at the dozen or so people waiting to be tried nearby:
"...instead of wasting food by sending them to Azkaban, you might as well sell them to me."
"Sell?!" The whole room was in an uproar. Even Harry, disguised as Runcorn, was stunned.
"This is a trial!" Umbridge said, exasperated. "They are criminals! We are confiscating their wands!"
"Once their wands are confiscated, they will make the best manual laborers."
Morrin looked coldly at Umbridge, a flash of golden light crossing his eyes: "For every head, I will pay the Ministry of Magic 50 Galleons. That amount is enough to pay the Aurors' salaries for next month."
"Or..." Morrin leaned in closer to Umbridge, lowering his voice. "Do you want me to cut off the Ministry of Magic's heating system as well? I heard the fireplace in the Minister's office hasn't been working very well lately."
Umbridge choked.
It was September, and the lower levels were incredibly cold. If Morrin really cut off the fuel supply...
"Fine... fine." Umbridge gritted her teeth. "Since it is for economic development... you may take them. But the wands must stay!"
"Deal."
Morrin turned around and waved to the Werewolf Guard: "Take them all away. Send them to the C-section factory to scrub cauldrons."
The werewolves stepped forward, roughly but actually protectively pulling up the terrified Muggle-borns, putting handcuffs on them, and leading them out of the courtroom.
Mrs. Cattermole was led away crying; she thought she was going to be a low-class slave, not knowing that it was the only path to freedom.
Just then, an incident occurred. Harry, disguised as Runcorn, had been standing nearby.
He saw Ron, disguised as Reg Cattermole, Mary's husband, looking on in despair as his wife was taken away.
Harry couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't just watch Morrin treat these people like livestock, even if it was to save them.
"Stupefy!" Harry suddenly drew his wand and hit Umbridge.
The pink toad let out a scream and fell from the high platform.
"Harry!" Hermione, disguised as a clerk, exclaimed. The scene instantly descended into chaos.
The Dementors began to stir and lunged at the trio.
"Expecto Patronum!" Harry shouted. A silver stag charged out and knocked the Dementors away.
"It's Potter! He is Harry Potter!" Yaxley roared. "Catch him! Seal the exits!"
Death Eaters and Aurors rushed forward. Morrin stood in the center of the chaos, not making a move. He was like a stabilizing anchor.
A Death Eater raised his wand, intending to ambush Harryfrom behind. *Thwack.* Morrin's cane extended backward "inadvertently," precisely tripping the Death Eater by his ankle.
The Death Eater fell flat on his face, his wand flying away.
"Oops, my apologies," Morrin said insincerely. "The floor is too slippery."
Harry glanced back at Morrin. Their eyes met across the chaotic crowd.
Morrin didn't speak, just tilted his head slightly, indicating a direction—the elevator.
Harry gritted his teeth, grabbed Ron and Hermione, and rushed into the elevator.
"Chase them! Don't let them get away!" Yaxley scrambled up, ready to pursue.
"Wait, Mr. Yaxley." Morrin suddenly blocked Yaxley's path, holding a long parchment list in his hand.
"Since the trial has been interrupted, should we verify the accounts for that 'human trafficking' transaction just now? 15 people in total, 750 Galleons. Do you want to pay by card or cash?"
"Get lost! White!" Yaxley stamped his feet in frustration.
"What do you mean by that?" Morrin's expression darkened, and his [Dragon Might] erupted.
In those few seconds of delay, the elevator doors closed. The trio of Harry, Ron, and Hermione successfully escaped.
Half an hour later, in the Ministry of Magic lobby. Although Harry and the others had escaped, the Ministry of Magicwas in utter chaos.
Morrin, with the Werewolf Guard, escorted the dozen or so "purchased" prisoners as they marched grandly out of the main entrance.
Once they were outside the gate and into a deserted alley, "Release them," Morrin commanded. The werewolves unlocked the handcuffs.
Those Muggle-born Wizards looked at Morrin, trembling, thinking they were about to be sent to a more terrifying place.
"Listen." Morrin looked at these people and pulled a portkey from his pocket: "This is a one-way portkey to France. It will activate in five minutes."
"Once you get there, change your names, and do not return to Britain. Not until the war is over."
Mrs. Cattermole looked at him in disbelief: "You... you're letting us go? But you paid for us..."
"That was blood money." Morrin tossed the boot to them.
"In this world, some things can be traded, like freedom. Some things cannot be traded, like... my mood."
Morrin glanced disdainfully in that direction, toward the basement where Umbridge was: "I just don't want to see that kind of pink toad killing people at will on my turf. It would dirty the floor."
*Hum—* The portkey activated. A dozen or so people vanished in a blue light.
Morrin stood in the empty alley, adjusting his tie.
"Alfred."
"Yes, young master."
"Harry and the others should have returned to Grimmauld Place by now," Morrin said, looking at the sky. "But that place has already been exposed."
"They will soon begin to wander."
"Initiate the [Wilderness Feeding Plan]." A smile tugged at the corners of Morrin's mouth: "Have our owls carry the best tents and food. In this cold winter, only with a full stomach will the savior have the strength to fight them."
Chapter 124: Five-Star Takeout in the Wilderness and an Irresistible Bill
September 2nd, late at night.
After a suffocating sensation of being squeezed, Harry, Hermione, and Ron fell into a pitch-black forest.
All around them were damp fallen leaves and howling cold winds.
"Ah——!!!"
Ron let out a shrill, miserable scream.
He collapsed on the ground, his face deathly pale, his left arm twisted in an unnatural way, blood staining his sleeve.
"Ron!" Hermione rushed over, tore open his sleeve, and then gasped.
Splinching. A large chunk of flesh was missing from Ron, as if it had been gouged out by an invisible knife.
"Quick! Essence of Dittany!" Harry scrambled to search through Hermione's small beaded bag, which had been cast with an Undetectable Extension Charm.
Hermione's hands trembled as she dripped the Potion.
Smoke rose; Ron fainted from the pain. Although the bleeding had stopped, the wound remained gruesome.
"We can't go back to Grimmauld Place." Harry panted, "Yaxley grabbed your arm; he might have seen the location. That safe house is compromised."
"Then where do we go?" Hermione asked with a sob, "We have nothing..."
"No, we do."
Harry suddenly remembered something.
He pulled a shrunken metal cube from his pocket—the gift Morrin had given to the Weasleys at Bill's wedding, which Arthur had later stuffed into Harry's hand.
[White Heavy Industries · Wilderness Survival Shelter (Supreme Edition)]
"Step back."
Harry threw the cube onto the clearing.
A soft sound of machinery whirring followed.
The metal cube rapidly unfolded, transformed, and inflated.
Within seconds, a luxurious tent camouflaged as a giant rock with stealth patterns appeared before them.
Click—hum!
The three of them struggled to carry Ron inside.
As soon as they entered, warm air rushed to meet them.
This was not one of those flimsy canvas tents.
The floor was covered with thick carpets, magic oil lamps hung on the walls, and there was even a fireplace with an automatic heating function and a small alchemical refrigerator in the corner.
"This..." Hermione was stunned, "This is simply... a mobile hotel."
Harry placed Ron on the soft sofa bed.
Although the environment was comfortable, it could not heal Ron's serious injury, nor could it dispel the fear in their hearts.
They had just escaped death at the Ministry of Magic and were now wanted fugitives with an uncertain future.
"Grr—"
Harry's stomach growled. They hadn't eaten all day.
Hermione opened the refrigerator.
Empty.
Aside from a few bottles of water, there was nothing, as this was a new tent and hadn't been stocked yet.
"We need to get some food." Harry said desperately, "Maybe I can go to a nearby village and steal some..."
Tap, tap, tap.
A rhythmic tapping sound suddenly came from the observation window, which was camouflaged as a rock crevice in the tent.
The three of them were startled and simultaneously raised their wands.
"Who is it?!"
There was no one outside the window.
Only a massive, pitch-black eagle owl with a silver leg band on its claw was there.
It was impatiently tapping the glass with its beak, its eyes seeming to say: "Open the door, delivery service."
Harry recognized this type of owl.
It was a dedicated courier for White Logistics.
"Morrin?" Harry hesitated for a moment before opening the window.
The eagle owl flew in, not flying about aimlessly, but heading straight for the table. It dropped a heavy package, then extended a claw, to which a small leather pouch for payment was tied.
Harry opened the package.
A tantalizing aroma instantly filled the entire tent.
Inside were three aluminum foil thermal containers.
[French Beef Bourguignon], [Cream of Mushroom Soup], [Freshly Baked Baguette].
There was also a purple bottle, [Powerful Skele-Gro and Body Repair Serum (Exclusively for Ron)].
On top of the food lay a printed parchment Bill:
[White Wartime Supply Delivery Note NO.001]
Customer: Harry Potter (VIP 001):
Dean Forest (Automatically locked via tent positioning system) Current Location
Order Details:
Three-person deluxe dinner — 15 Galleons
Powerful repair Potion — 50 Galleons
Emergency delivery fee (War zone expedited) — 20 Galleons
Total: 85 Galleons
Note: Given your current status as a fugitive, it is recommended to use Gringotts fingerprint payment. Also, Mr. Ron Weasley's treatment cannot be delayed, otherwise he will become a cripple, which would affect my team's combat effectiveness.
——Your loyal arms dealer, M.W.
Harry held the Bill, looking at the owl still waiting for payment, then at the steaming food on the table and the unconscious Ron.
A feeling of extreme absurdity welled up in his heart.
They were on the run! Being hunted by the entire Ministry of Magic! Surviving in the wilderness!
And yet, Morrin could actually send them takeout?! And it was exorbitantly expensive!
"85 Galleons..." Ron groaned in his stupor, "Just kill me... it's too expensive..."
"Shut up, Ron."
Harry sighed, counted out a handful of gold coins from Hermione's bag, and stuffed them into the owl's leather pouch.
He had withdrawn quite a bit of money at Gringotts and kept it with Hermione.
"Thank you." Harry said to the owl.
The owl let out a haughty cry, as if mocking this bunch of poor wretches, then spread its wings and flew out the window, disappearing into the night.
Hermione quickly fed the purple Potion to Ron.
The effect was immediate. Ron's originally pale complexion quickly flushed, and that terrible wound began to heal at a speed visible to the naked eye.
"It's amazing." Hermione exclaimed, "You can't buy this quality of Potion on the market at all."
The three sat around the table and began to eat that expensive dinner.
The beef was stewed until tender and flavorful, and the hot soup dispelled the cold in their bodies.
"It's really delicious." Ron said while eating, his mouth full, "Although that jerk charged us a sky-high price, this beef is really good."
Harry took a sip of soup and looked at the warm fireplace.
He suddenly felt that he was still on Morrin's chessboard.
No matter where he fled, whether at the Ministry of Magicor in the wilderness, the shadow of that Slytherin always loomed over him.
"He is monitoring us." Harry said in a low voice.
"He is protecting his 'investment'." Hermione corrected, looking at the Bill, "There is a positioning system on the tent. As long as we are still in this tent, he can find us."
"Then should we throw away the tent?" Ron asked.
Harry looked at the raging storm outside, then at the comfortable bed.
"No."
Harry took a bite of bread, his eyes becoming determined, or perhaps helpless:
"Since we are going to fight Lord Voldemort, we need strength. Since Morrin wants to do business..."
"...then we will be the big client that makes him 'go bankrupt'."
...
Meanwhile, London, White Tower.
Morrin White looked at the alchemical map in his hand.
The green dot representing Harry was flickering deep in the Dean Forest.
"Transaction complete."
Morrin closed the map and said to Alfred beside him:
"As long as they rely on my supplies, they cannot escape my control."
"Young Master, what is the next step?"
"The next step..."
Morrin walked to the display case and looked at the object glittering with cold light inside.
sword of gryffindor (Pseudo-Alchemical Replica).
"There are three Horcrux left: hufflepuffs cup, Nagini, and Harry himself."
"The hufflepuffs cup is at Gringotts; that is my territory."
"Nagini is by Lord Voldemort's side."
Morrin's fingers tapped lightly on the glass cabinet:
"Notify Snape. Tell him that the real sword can start 'delivery'."
A mischievous smile curled the corners of Morrin's mouth:
"...It is also to give Ron Weasley a chance to 'play the hero' (save Harry), and repair their fragile friendship."
"After all, only a united team can help me win the final Gringotts acquisition war."
Chapter 125: Intercepted Communication, the Locket's Whereabouts, and the Professionalism of "Party B"
Dean Forest.
The torrential rain continued to beat against the tent's protective shield, making a dull thumping sound.
Inside the tent, the trio had just finished that luxury dinner worth 85 Galleons.
Ron leaned back on the cushions, his face much ruddier, though he was still aching over the money.
Hermione sat at the table, the fake locket from the cave in her hand, her brows furrowed.
"R.A.B... Regulus Black," Hermione analyzed. "If he really took the true Horcrux, then it should be at Grimmauld Place. But we searched that whole house and found nothing."
"Maybe Mundungus stole it?" Ron guessed. "That thief takes everything."
"No."
Harry shook his head and pulled an old mirror, only the size of a palm, from his pocket.
The two-way mirror.
Sirius had given it to him, saying he could call anytime he ran into trouble.
"I need to ask Sirius," Harry gripped the mirror. "He's Regulus's older brother; he must know something. And... we need to know where to go next."
Harry took a deep breath toward the mirror and called out softly, "
Sirius? Sirius—"
The mirror's surface rippled for a moment, like waves on water.
Harry stared expectantly at the mirror, hoping to see his godfather's weathered but kind face.
However, a few seconds later, it wasn't Sirius who appeared in the mirror.
Instead, it was a hand wearing a white glove, holding a silk handkerchief and wiping the mirror surface.
The camera zoomed out.
Morrin White's handsome, cold, and slightly languid face appeared in the mirror.
The background was his luxurious office in the White Tower, with the brilliant night view of London visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
"Good evening, Mr. Potter."
Morrin smiled at the mirror, a smile that made Harry's stomach churn.
"Morrin?!" Harry nearly dropped the mirror. "How is it you? Where's Sirius?"
"Mr. Black is busy checking last month's family trust accounts," Morrin said indifferently. "As the asset manager, I have the duty to filter out some... invalid nuisance calls for him."
"This is my mirror! I want to talk to my godfather!" Harryroared. "This concerns Lord Voldemort's Horcrux!"
"I know."
Morrin set down his pen and leaned forward, occupying the entire mirror.
"Regarding that slytherins locket... is this what you're looking for?"
Morrin took a golden locket inlaid with emeralds from a drawer.
It looked ancient and exquisite, shimmering under the lights.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione all crowded in front of the mirror, their eyes nearly popping out.
"It... it's in your hands?!" Hermione screamed.
"Of course," Morrin toyed with the locket. "Two years ago, when I was helping the House of Black clear out some junk, I recycled it along the way."
"You knew all along it was a Horcrux?" Harry felt a moment of breathlessness.
"I am an alchemist, Harry," Morrin did not deny it. "I am always sensitive to high-density energy aggregates."
"Then why didn't you tell us?!" Harry questioned angrily. "Do you know how much risk we took to find this thing? We nearly died at the Ministry of Magic! Ron even got Splinched!"
"That was necessary training."
Morrin's voice was as cold as a machine:
"If I didn't let you hit a few walls, how would you learn to think like adult Wizards? How would you learn to survive in desperate situations?"
"And..."
Morrin opened the locket's lid.
It was completely empty inside, with no Black eyes and no soul fragment of Lord Voldemort.
"...the contents inside have already been disposed of by me. It is now just an expensive antique; apart from being sold for money, it is useless."
Harry stared blankly at the empty box.
He felt like a fool. The thing they had risked their lives for had been "used" as a battery by Morrin two years ago.
"So what are we supposed to do now?" Ron asked despairingly. "Go home and sleep?"
"No."
Morrin closed the locket and tossed it aside casually.
"Since the first project has concluded, I am now issuing the second project."
Morrin held up one finger:
"hufflepuffs cup."
"It is hidden in Gringotts, in Bellatrix Lestrange's vault."
"Gringotts?!" Ron exclaimed. "That's the safest place in the world! Aside from Hogwarts!"
"That was before," Morrin corrected. "Now, the White Security Company is responsible for its security upgrades. Although it's harder to get in, it's not impossible."
"You want us to rob a bank?" Hermione looked at Morrin in disbelief.
"I am asking you to perform vulnerability testing."
Morrin looked at the trio:
"I have the security blueprints for Gringotts, but I cannot give them to you directly. That would be too easy. Lord Voldemort would be suspicious."
"You need to find your own way in. Polyjuice Potion, Imperio, or the invisibility cloak... use whatever method you wish."
"As long as you can enter the vault and destroy that cup."
Morrin paused and dangled the final bait:
"...I will waive your 85 Galleon debt for tonight's dinner. Furthermore, I will provide you with material support for the next stage."
Harry looked at the high-and-mighty capitalist in the mirror.
He hated Morrin.
But he also had to admit that the path Morrin pointed out was the only clear one at the moment.
"There's still another Horcrux," Harry asked through gritted teeth. "Since you know everything, tell me, where are the rest?"
"The diadem of ravenclaw is with me, destroyed. The ring was with Dumbledore, destroyed. The diary is destroyed. The locket is destroyed. The cup is in Gringotts."
Morrin counted on his fingers:
"There are two left."
"One is that snake... It stays by Lord Voldemort's side at all times; you can't touch it for now." Nagini
"And the other..."
Morrin looked at Harry, his gaze suddenly becoming somewhat profound, even carrying a hint of... sympathy?
"...the last Horcrux is hidden in the place you'd least expect."
"Where?"
"That is a question for the final exam, Harry."
Morrin did not directly reveal the truth that Harry himself was a Horcrux, because Harry's current mentality was too fragile; telling him might cause him to collapse immediately.
"Go handle the cup first. That is your 'graduation design'."
"Oh, right."
Morrin seemed to remember something:
"Your current equipment is too poor. Aside from that tent, you don't even have a decent weapon."
"Keep an eye on the surrounding lakes."
Morrin smiled mysteriously:
"Professor Snape has been working a part-time job as a 'courier' lately. He might deliver something to you... a relic of Gryffindor."
"That thing can cut through Horcruxes, and it can also cut through your confusion."
Buzz—
The mirror went Black.
The call ended.
Morrin had unilaterally cut the connection.
Dead silence filled the tent.
The sound of rain continued to echo.
"He's a complete bastard," Ron cursed. "A total bastard. He's just using us like his employees!"
"But he gave us a lead," Hermione took a deep breath and pulled out some parchment. "Gringotts... Bellatrix's vault... we need Polyjuice Potion. We need hair."
Harry sat on the sofa, still holding the now-dark mirror.
He thought about Morrin's final words.
"A relic of Gryffindor."
"Snape is the courier."
"The sword of gryffindor," Harry whispered.
"What?"
"He's hinting at the sword of gryffindor." Harry stood up, the confusion in his eyes dissipating, replaced by a determined rage. "Morrin is right. Regardless of whether he's treating us as employees or pawns... we have to win. We have to kill Lord Voldemort."
"And then..."
Harry looked at his tired reflection in the mirror:
"...and then I'm going to slap that 85 Galleon bill hard onto that handsome face of his."
...London, White Tower.
Morrin set down the two-way mirror.
"Notify Snape," he said to Alfred. "He can ship the goods now."
"Set the location at the ice lake in Dean Forest."
Morrin walked to the window, looking out at the pitch-Black night sky.
"Let our savior sober up in the cold water. And while we're at it... give Ron Weasley a chance to be a hero."
"This team needs a bit of 'cohesion'. And shared suffering, like jumping into an ice lake together, is the best adhesive."